The Walking Dead: Black Death
by Whitey Ria
Summary: AU. Even before the dead began to rise and the world went to hell, Noire had only cared about herself. But when a little girl named Clementine is thrust into her life, she will need to learn how to protect her, and maybe find the good in humanity.
1. Noire

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

Note: This is my first OFFICIAL story here on FF, so try to be nice about it, but don't hesitate to offer your critique – it can only help me improve. This is story follows much of the original Waling Dead game by Telltale, but with its own twists that will eventually branch off into its own story.

The biggest change is that instead of Lee, Clementine is found by Noire (Not her real name), a seventeen year-old woman with a difficult past and a distrust of humanity, even before the Apocalypse. Now with the world literally going to hell, Noire tries to do whatever she can to keep them alive, and maybe even learn to trust again.

* * *

**Episode One: Noire**

The sky had been so beautiful that day – not a single cloud in the sea of endless blue. It was like the world was laughing at her.

Atlanta was just passing through another normal, boring day, though she hardly knew that considering she was handcuffed in the backseat of a police car, on her way out of the city. She supposed she should have been used to this by now. She had been arrested more time in the last five years than most men had been their entire lifetimes. They even had a special cell at juvenile hall with a name written on it and everything. But she wasn't going to Juvie – she had gone too far this time to be let off so easily.

At seventeen years, Noire was finally going to be put down.

Now her real name wasn't Noire, obviously. It had been a nickname she had made for herself since she was five years-old, refusing to take the same name as that bastard. For lack of originality, she named herself based on her black hair, which she always kept buzz cut so that some jackass would try to grab it in the middle of a fight. And she'd been in a lot of fights.

Noire leaned her head against the window, resting against the cool surface of the glass. She may as well enjoy the view since it was bound to be her last. She chanced a look at the old police office in front. Mostly bald with a little bit of gray, the old timer looked like he was well along in his mid-fifties. This guy must have seen a lot of shit in his days. The though brought a smile to Noire's lips.

The old officer readjusted his mirror, looking at Noire's reflection in the back seat.

"Well, I reckon you didn't do it, then," said the officer.

Noire scoffed.

"Nah, I did it," she said, staring him back through the rearview mirror. "But for the sake of conversation, why do think that?"

"Y'know, I've driven a buncha' fellas down to this prison," said the officer. "Lord knows how many. First time I ever driven a teenager girl to be executed though. Damn shame. Usually is 'bout now I get the 'I didn't do it'."

"Not from me," said Noire.

"Cause a girl in your position already said it enough?" asked the officer.

"Probably not enough," said Noire.

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, listening to the endless chatter of the police scanner.

"_We've got what looks like a 10-91E near Peachtree Exit of 285. All cars asked to keep a look out for a 91V in the area."_

Noire had been in the back of a cop car many times to make sense of the police code dispatch used. From the sound of it, there had been more than a couple animal bites. Pretty small thing, so she didn't know why they were making it sound like a big deal.

"I followed your case a little bit, you being a Macon girl and all," said the officer.

"Was born in Macon," said Noire with a grimace. "Got bored of it, so I left. Moved to Atlanta where all the big shit happens. Why? You from Macon?"

"Guess we alike in some ways," the officer said with a chuckle. "Came up to Atlanta to be a city cop in the seventies. Always wanted to work a murder case, like the senatorial mess you got yourself mixed up in, with all due respect. Real shame that is."

She should have expected this. It all came back to that crap. Then again, it is the reason why she was on her way to prison, only to be privately executed. Leaning against the window again, Noire's brow peaked curiously as another cop car zoom past them in the opposite direction, making its way back to Atlanta. The radio dispatch also went off again, furthering her interest.

"_Be advised of medical personnel on route to Hartsfield, various 10s and 20s coming in,_"

"Sounds like some shit is going down," said Noire, referring to the police scanner.

"Seems like it, but try not to pay any mind," said the officer. "That box never shuts up. Sit in this seat and pay attention too much attention and you'll drive yourself crazy." Figures. Leave to old people to sweep things under the rug for the younger generation to clean up. "So, you ever gonna explain why you did it. I mean, Christ, those people have a kid."

"Correction," Noire interrupted. "They **had** a kid. Must've been eight years-old. He said he wanted his mommy and daddy, so I helped him. His head made a real nice splat on the concrete."

"You are one twisted bitch, you know that," said the office, leering at her through the mirror.

"I prefer psychologically demented," joked Noire. The officer didn't seem to find the same humor as she did.

You wanna know how I see it?" The officer asked.

"I got much choice," Noire replied.

"Sure don't."

The officer looked like he wanted to say something, whether it was about the family she killed or that she was a psychotic bitch, but he changed his mind when he stared at her through the rearview. Noire had a look that always said "Fuck off" whenever someone irritated her. Her last parole officer called it the Death Glare. So rather saying what he wanted to, the officer chose a less…vicious response.

"Regardless, could be you were just brought up by the wrong people."

Noire wanted to laugh. She wanted to laugh so hard that she would piss herself. Brought up by the wrong people – that was a laugh. Because the truth of it was, that no one had brought her up. She had literally raised herself on the streets, from Macon to Atlanta, making a living out of mugging and robbing innocent people. She had spent half her life avoiding child services that would lie through their teeth, saying that they wanted to find her a better home. But they weren't looking for a better home. They just didn't want her to be their problem anymore. Just like everyone else.

The police scanner wailed again – at least she had something decent to distract her.

"_Riot in progress. All officers are available for incoming 217s. Rolling calls and dispatches to all locations._"

"217?" Noire repeated, seemingly shocked at the sudden elevation in threat level. At that same moment, a police helicopter and more than a dozen squad cars zoomed past them, all their alarms wailing. Following the direction they were headed, Noire rightly assumed they were headed back to Atlanta. "Damn, shit really hit the fan fast, didn't it?"

"You'll have to learn to stop worrying about things you can't control," said the officer. "You got your own mess to worry about, being that you gonna die soon."

"You really know how to cheer a girl up," Noire said sarcastically.

"Then how 'bout a story to pass the time," said the officer. Noire groaned loudly, but the officer continued. "I was driving this man once; h-he was the worst one. Thomas Richards, I think his name was. He wouldn't stop going on He wouldn't stop going on 'bout how he didn't do it. He was an older fella. Big, soft eyes behind a pair of smart folk glasses, and he's just back there, says it wasn't him. Crying and snotting, right where you're sitting."

"Ew!" Noire squealed, quickly jumping over to the other seat. The officer up front laughed. "That's not funny, that's disgusting!"

The officer laughed even harder if possible. Then the police scanner went off again, much to Noire sweet relief. Sadly, the officer was annoyed by his story being interrupted and cut off the radio. Great, just when she thought she could listen to something other than this old windbag.

"Then before long he starts kicking the seat, li-like a fussy baby on an airplane," the officer continued. Noire wanted nothing better than to take his gun and shoot herself. "And I tell him he's gotta stop, that that's government property, and I'll be forced to zap him otherwise. So he stops, and having exhausted all his options, he starts crying out for his mama. 'Mama, it's all a big mistake! It wasn't me'."

"What a baby," Noire scoffed. At least she had the maturity to keep her head, even if she was on death's row.

"Got that right," said the officer. "They caught the fucker red-handed! Stabbin' his wife, cutting her up as they boys came through the door! He sits in my car screaming bloody murder that it wasn't him! I think he actually believed it himself. It goes to show, people will up and go mad when they believe their life is over."

"Not me," said Noire. "I've come to terms with it. And you know what; I don't regret what I did. That fucker deserved everything that was coming to him."

"If you say so," said the officer, looking uncertain how to respond to such a statement. He turned around to look at Noire directly, probably tired of talking to her reflection. "Oh, I got another good one for ya. This one's a little less depressing and a bit more hilarious if I do say so…"

But as the old man went rabbling on into another of his tales, Noire noticed something out the windshield of the car. It looked like someone was stumbling into the road, rather slower than what was believed to be safe. Maybe he was drunk. But as they were getting closer and closer, the plastered man stopped…directly in front of them!

"WATCH THE FUCKING ROAD!" Noire screamed.

But it was too late. The car collided with the man hood of the car with a squelching _splat_, smearing blood all over the windshield. The car began to swerve and, despite the officer's best attempt to regain control, they veered off the road through a rail and began their tumble down the hill.

Noire lost all sense of direction as the car flipped over and over again, sending equipment and the like flying everywhere. The officer was able to remain in his seat due to his seatbelt, but Noire wasn't as lucky, flailing around every which way in the back seat. She felt a sharp pain in her right elbow before she slammed her face into the window.

Everything after that was pitch black.


	2. Escape

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

* * *

**Episode Two: Escape**

As Noire slowly regained consciousness, she came to realize how much her head felt like shit. It felt like a monkey was beating her brain like a drum. Everything was a blur as she slowly opened her eyes, barely conscious to the world around her. There was something walking around her, limping. Was it a man? Was it the man they hit? Noire didn't know. Everything was so hazy. She could hear something as well. It sounded like screaming and…gunshots…and something akin to growling animal, but all of it sounded so far away, and was getting farther as her eyes started getting heavier. The last thing she heard before passing out again was the scream of a pain in pain and the sound of something tear. Then the world turned black again.

Noire awoke much later to sound of tweeting birds, as corny as that may seem. She took a quick look around, realizing she was still in the back of the cop car, which had been flipped and now she was sitting on the ceiling. A quick look outside told her that they had landed somewhere in the forest and it was close to sunset – she must have been out for hours.

"Ugh…oww…shit," Noire moaned.

She sat up slowly, healing the bones in her stiff spine crack into place; sleeping on the ceiling wasn't very comfortable. Noire looked down at her hand, both of which were sadly still handcuffed despite the tumble. Well, at least she was still in one piece. Noire fumbled with the handcuffs, having a lot of experience when it came to picking locks, when she felt a sharp jolt in her elbow.

"Fuck, my arm," Noire hissed. She looked at the wound to see something sticking out under her skin. It didn't look like her arm was broken, just dislocated – that would be fixable later. "Ah, fucking hell. Hey, old man, you got any…"

But when Noire turned to the front of the car, she found it empty. No doubt the police officer had tried to escape after their little tumble down the hill. She didn't doubt that he had intentionally left her behind; she was a criminal after all. Taking a second look around the car, she searched for a safe way out when she noticed the shattered window behind her. It was much too small for her to climb out, but that wasn't what she was focusing on.

The old Atlanta officer was lying on the ground a short distance away from the car, limbs twisted in awkward angles.

"Hey! Hey, old man!" shouted Noire. The officer didn't respond or even flinch. Was he unconscious? "Hey, are you listening? I'm still cuffed back here!" It took a moment before Noire became aware of the large quantity of blood trailing from the car to his position. "Oh shit…there's no way he was ejected. He dragged himself out there. But why?" Her eyes fell of the shotgun not too far. "And would he need his gun? Shit…was he attacked? Fucking Christ. Gotta get out of here."

Noire took another look around the car. The window across was mostly intact with the exception of the large crack in the glass. This was her best chance. Shifting around to give herself a better angle, Noire lifted her leg and kicked the glass as hard as she could. It was successful; there were more cracks in the window. She kicked the glass again and the window broke down further. By the third kick, the window had shattered entirely. Using as much effort as she could with only one arm, Noire leaned over the window and landed face first into the dirt. Not her most graceful landing, but at least she was out.

Getting up was difficult since she had only one working arm and both of them were handcuffed. Noire unsteadily got to her feet and leaned against the wreckage. Big mistake. Her broken arm knocked against the door and the sudden feeling of burning pain shot up to her shoulder. Noire hissed, but didn't allow it to deter her from her goal. Pushing herself back up, Noire walked around the wreckage, her eyes falling on the officer's body.

"The cuff key is not in the car," said Noire, panting from exertion. "He must have still had it on him when we crashed. Great…going from homicidal maniac to grave robber – what a glamorous life I lead."

Sighing, Noire trudged over to the officer's corpse, nearly tripping over the shotgun. Once she was free of her cuffs, maybe she could use it later. As she stood over the officer's body, Noire looked the old man over. It was hard to tell under all the blood, but it looked like he had been…bitten by something. Did it have something to do with the animal bitings dispatch have been warning about? Were they still around somewhere? Noire didn't want to be around to find out.

It didn't take long to find the keys – the old man had left them hanging out of his back pocket. Noire grabbed them and started to work on the cuff around her left wrists when the pain in her right elbow suddenly flared, causing her fingers to stiffen and drop the keys…right next to the old man's mouth.

"Shit," Noire cursed.

Noire reached down and grabbed the keys again, this time being extra careful not to irritate her arm. After carefully coordinating her hand, she unlocked the left cuff and unlatched the right one a few seconds later. Ah, free at last. Her wrists were starting to chafe.

But before she could pat herself on the back, Noire heard something in the silence of the woods. It sounded like a growling animal. Did whatever kill the officer come back? No…wait…that noise was coming from the officer. Noire looked down, noticing for the first time that his head was twitching.

"Hey, old timer…you still alive…?" Noire asked slowly.

Then without warning, the officer pounced on her. Noire jumped at the sudden reaction, falling flat on her ass, but never looking away from the officer. Whoever this was, it wasn't the Atlanta police officer that loved telling stories. This…_thing…_was pale as hell, like all the blood was suddenly drained from his body, which it probably was. Its flesh was coming off it chunks, its eyes were white as milk, and it was growling like a starved beast. And by the looks of it, she was the main course.

"Oh shit!" Noire screamed, crawling back as far away from that _thing_ as fast as she could, ignoring the repeated sharp pain in her elbow. "Get the fuck away from me, you shit-faced freak!"

Unfortunately, Noire didn't get very far; her back collided with the wreckage of the cop car, cutting off her route of escape. The _thing _was moving closer and closer andshe was running out of options. There was no way she was going to die this way – she worked to hard to be eaten by some animal-man. Then she remembered something: the shotgun! Noire reached over with her good arm and, using her leg to prop up the barrel, pulled the trigger in the _thing's _face. The barrel was empty.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Noire snapped.

Before she knew it, the _thing _was already on top of her, flailing its arms and trying to take a bite out of her face. The only thing stopping it was the shotgun Noire was pressing against its chest. This _thing_ was freakishly strong and she couldn't do much with only one arm. She needed something to kill this _thing_ with and, lo and behold, a shotgun shell was lying not too far away from her. Though she knew it would hurt like shit, Noire forced her free arm to move, biting back her screams as the stabbing pain returned even worse than before. But she refused to back down, and for her perseverance, her reward was the shotgun shell now resting in her palm.

Noire raised her feet against the _thing's _chest and kicked him as hard as she could, luckily able to separate them by at least a few feet. The _thing _was already starting to crawl back as Noire fumbled with the shotgun, cursing herself when she dropped the shell. But once she was loaded, Noire showed no hesitation in shoving the barrel down the _thing's_ throat and pulling the trigger. The monster's head exploded completely, covering the trees and the bushes in blood and brain fragments. The rest of the body slumped to the ground, blood continuing to stain the forest floor like a red river.

Noire sighed in sweet relief, leaning back against the car. She discard then shotgun – it only had one shot left anyway. Now that she out of danger, she could help but think of how she had just killed that _thing _which used to be a friendly police officer. Sure, she had killed that senator and his family, but she had her reasons. This…this just left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Damn…," said Noire softly, looking down at the headless corpse. Now that she had the chance to look it over, she did notice something things she hadn't before. "His skin's all rotten…and he smells like shit. What the hell is this?"

Noire couldn't make sense of this. Was this another version of the rabies scare that everyone talked about…or was it some kind of biological weapon? Were there terrorist that had resorted to using biological warfare against them. Noire didn't doubt that – America was always c0oming up with some kind of shit to go to war and make a profit from it. Looks like it bit them in the ass this time.

Noire took another look around the forest, hoping there wasn't any more of this…_things_ lying around. When her eyes fell on the long slope ahead of her, she noticed that she wasn't alone anymore. It looked like someone was watching her; looked like a kid from a distance. They must have heard the gunshot and came looking for the source. Perfect. That meant there were other people; people who could fix her arm.

"Hey, kid!" Noire yelled. "Hey, go get someone! I need help! My arm is al fu – hey, wait, where are you going?" Noire was slack-jawed when the kid turned around, running out of sight. "Did you just blow me off? You little bitch! You better hope I don't find you because your fucking ass is –"

Noire cut herself off when the sound of broken tree branches stole her attention. Then there was some rustling, then some growling, and then before she knew it, more of those _things_ started popping up from behind the trees. They were just like the dead office: rotten skin, milky eyes, and hungry growling. Fuck! Noire wasted no time jumping to her feet and made a run for it. Unfortunately, her lack of awareness cause her to trip over the officer's course, once again landing on her dislocated arm. She just can't catch a fucking break today!

Those _things _were getting closer; she couldn't afford to waste any more time. Noire pushed herself back onto her feet and made another mad dash for the slope. Thankfully, it didn't seem like these could move faster than anything at a walking pace. That was good. She could total outrun those Walkers. Though she made sure not to be careless with her surroundings again, especially when she noticed some of the Walkers were hiding behind the rocks and trees, waiting for her to get within arm's reach. But she was too smart for them – she was not going to be killed by these fucking monsters.

Noire came up to the top of the slope with a little difficulty, only to come face-to-face with the tall fence blocking her off from the house beyond it. Noire had spent a lifetime climbing fences, so it was easy for her, even with only one arm. Noire charged at the fence and kicked off the side before skillfully kicking off the nearby tree and gracefully flying over the edge, landing perfectly on her feet. She was a total pro when it came to parkour, naturally.

Noire's attention was refocused on the fence now that the Walkers had finally caught up to her. She could hear them banging their fists against the wall and for a moment, as she cautiously took a few steps back, Noire worried that the fence would hold. She could already hear the boards creaking.

Then there was a sudden bang coming from the forest; it sounded like a gunshot. Was someone else trying to fight off the Walkers? Well, whatever they were doing, the noise seemed to have attracted her pursuer's attention. The Walkers stopped banging on the wooden fence and the sound of crunching leaves told her that they were moving on, possibly toward the source of the noise. So these things were drawn by noise, huh? She would need to file that one for later.

Now – finally – free of danger, Noire took a good look around where she had landed herself. It looked like a very decent suburban home: two levels, nice coat of paint, decent lawn furniture, hell they even had a pool and a tree house. This is the kind of place that Noire would have like to live in growing up, but that's in the past. She noticed a few toys littered in the yard. Maybe this was where that kid had come from.

"Hello? Anybody?" Noire called. But no one answered back, living or dead. For the first time since she was a little, she was completely alone, aware that the world was slowly falling apart around her. "Shit…what have I gotten myself into."


	3. Clementine

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

* * *

**Episode Three: Clementine**

Now that those…Walkers were out chasing another meal, Noire gave herself the chance to breathe easy for a while; God knows she could use it. She leaned against the railing of the backyard porch, being careful not to agitate her dislocated arm any more than she already had. She took another look around the yard. The pool had been sealed up, understandsble considering the approaching Fall, and the strewed about toys were covered in dirt and bugs, indicating that they had been abandoned for quite some time. There was a cute little tea set underneath the tree house, also.

"Wouldn't mind filling up one of those tea cups with some bourbon," said Noire. "This day would be a whole like better if I was smashed." She looked up the tree to the small, yet surprisingly well-built, treehouse. Didn't she see a little girl earlier? "Hey, anybody up there? If you're not one of those things say something!" She received no response. "Guess she must have run away. Smart kid."

Noire pushed off the railing and turned around to the house. It looked mostly well-kept. Maybe she could hold herself in there, get a little food in her while she's at it. Noire walked around the porch and up the stairs, peering through the sliding glass window. It was too dark to see anything inside. She tried knocking, hoping that there wasn't anyone inside waiting shoot her on sight.

"Hello?" said Noire. "Anybody home? I could use a little help here."

Noire waited, but didn't receive any response. Well, that was rather ominous. Under normal circumstances, Noire would have been wary to enter the house, not knowing if something would attack her the moment she stepped through the door. But her arm was hurting like hell and she didn't want to take a chance of those Walkers coming back to finish their meal. Noire grabbed the handle, doing the best she could with one arm, and pulled the sliding glass door open.

"I'm coming in, ok?" Noire called. "If you shoot at me, I'm gonna be real pissed."

She cautiously stepped inside the house, closing the glass door behind her in case those Walkers decided to show up. Unfortunately, she ended up having to use a lot of her strength to shut it firmly behind her and irritated her arm from the jerking movement.

"Ahh, shit," Noire hissed. "Hello? I'm not an intruder…or one of those Walkers."

She took another few steps closer into the house, stopping just short of the kitchen with a good view of the living room. The place looked like it had been ransacked or a herd of rhinos had stampeded through. Furniture had been overturned – some of it smashed to pieces – and the worst of it was the large splatter of blood on the kitchen floor and walls.

"Shit, these people need more help than I do," said Noire.

Noire walked further into the house, taking a good look around. Ignoring the blood smeared almost everywhere around the house, she did find an unfinished coloring book on the kitchen counter, so that pretty much told her the little girl had been here at some point. Noire was relieved to find bowl of fruit of the dining table and wasted no time taking a bite out of the apple. She spit it out at once. What kind of fucking asshole leaves wax fruit in the dining room?

Now she was starving worse than ever. She looked over the counter into the kitchen, which was even worse than the rest of the house. She was right to assume that the place had been looted: the kitchen furniture had been smashed against the wall and the cabinet doors had been thrown open. Whoever robbed the place had probably taken all the food with them, but it didn't hurt to look. Noire walked around the counter into the kitchen, unconsciously forgetting the massive blood puddle at the entrance. Noire slipped on the blood and crashed to the floor, consequently landing on her dislocated arm.

"Seriously!" Noire screamed as the pain shot up and down her arm. "Are you fucking serious?"

Noire used the counter to pull herself up, not at all please that her shirt and pants were now covered in blood – these were the only clothes she owned. But she digressed. Noire walked around the small kitchen, trying to ignore the bloody footprints that seemed to stop halfway towards the drawers. She got lucky and found a cup of water unattended near the sink. It might not have been filling, but at least she managed to get something inside her, tap water or not.

Noire thought it would be a good idea to search the kitchen for anything useful. Her years of scavenging had taught her that looters often miss a thing or two when they were in a hurry. She checked the sink drawer. Nothing. She checked the cupboard. Nothing. She was starting to think the looters might have done a thorough job. But when she opened the next drawer, she found a small handheld walkie-talkie inside. Noire made the easy decision to take it. Short-range radios could be useful in the long run once she figured out the proper radio frequency.

Noire searched the rest of the drawers and cupboards, but the walkie-talkie was the best she could come up with. Even the refrigerator had been picked clean. Damn. Closing the fridge door, Noire noticed a note hanging on one of the magnets. It looked like it had been written recently.

"Hmm…the Marsh House," Noire hummed. "That's a Savannah area-code. But that's the type of note you leave for a babysitter…"

So now there was a babysitter in addition to the little girl she saw in the woods. Maybe that would explain why she hasn't seen either of them in the house. They must have packed up everything and ran the moment shit hit the fan. But if that was the case, why was there so much blood on the floor? And where was the body, is there was one? This shit was starting to make less sense every moment.

Suddenly, Noire heard a loud beep that made her jump. It sounded like it was coming from the living room. She walked out of the kitchen, making sure to step over the blood puddle and turned to the little noisemaker. It was an answering machine – the blinking red light must have meant there were some unread messages. Call it an invasion of privacy, but Noire needed to know _**something**_ about what was going on, so she felt no shame in pressing the button.

_Three new messages. Message one. Left at five-forty-three p.m._

_**Hey, Sandra, this is Diana. We're still in Savannah. Ed had a little 'incident' with some crazy guy near the hotel, so we had to get him back to the ER and have it checked out. Anyway, he's not feeling well enough to drive back tonight, so we're staying an extra day. Thanks so much for looking after Clementine, and I promise we'll be back in time before your spring break!**_

So the babysitter's name is Sandra and the girl's name is Clementine. Well, at least she had something to go on should she ever come across them. Though this situation with 'Ed', from the sound of it, did not bode well. Noire didn't want to think it was a Walker, but she was still skeptical.

_Message two. Left at eleven-nine-teen p.m._

_**Oh my god, finally! I don't know if you tried to reach us; all the calls are getting dropped. They're not telling us leave and aren't telling us anything about Atlanta. Please, please, just leave the city and take Clementine with you back to Marietta. I've got to get back to the hospital. Please let me know that you are safe.**_

Noire had been right. The situation in Savannah was the same as it was in Atlanta – Walkers must have infested the city and it sounded like Ed and Diana were in some real shit.

_Message three. Left at six-fifty-one a.m._

_**Clementine? Baby, if you can hear this, call the police. That's 9-1-1. We love you…we love you…we love y –**_

That was the last message. Diana had been crying through the whole thing. It didn't take a genius to know what had happened. Noire noticed the framed photo next to the machine that had been knocked over and picked it up. It was the family that had lived here: a tall black man, his beautiful wife, and their sweet-as-sugar little girl. But now that sweet little girl was parentless, just as Noire had been. She sighed heavily as she set the photo down, wondering what she should do next.

"Mommy?"

Noire jumped again and looked around. She could have sworn she heard a little girl's voice, but she didn't see anyone. It took her a few seconds before she realized the voice had come from her pocket. She pulled out the walkie-talkie as she cautiously walked over to the sliding door, wondering if anyone was watching her from outside.

"…Hello?" Noire answered uncertainly.

"You need to be quiet," the little girl warned.

If anyone else had said that to her, she would have told them to fuck off. But with the Walkers roaming around, that might not have been a bad idea. Noire stepped away from the sliding door.

"Who is this?" asked Noire.

"I'm Clementine," said the little girl, now confirmed as Clementine. "This is my house."

"Hi, Clementine," said Noire gently. "I'm Noire."

"That's a funny name," said Clementine.

"Says the girl named after an orange," Noire retorted. She paced over to the living room under the faded light of the television screen. She started looking under the overturned bookshelf, thinking that someone may be hiding there. "How old are you?"

"Eight," said Clementine.

"And you're all alone," said Noire, sounding very impressed. Not a lot of children could look after themselves at that age.

"Yes," said Clementine, her voice trembling. "I don't know where anybody is. How old are you?"

"I'm uh…seventeen," Noire answered.

"Ok," said Clementine, sounding much more relieved to be speaking to someone older.

"Where are your parents?" asked Noire as she made her way to the kitchen, dodging the blood puddle again.

"They took a trip and left me with Sandra," said Clementine. "They're in Savannah I think. Where the boats are."

"Where are you?" asked Noire, stepping over to the kitchen window. She always felt uneasy when she couldn't see who she was talking to; experience has taught her that most people tend to literally stab you in the back when you aren't looking. "Are you safe?"

I'm outside in my treehouse," said Clementine. Noire looked up to the small wooden fortress outside. "They can't get in."

"Smart girl," said Noire approvingly. "Doesn't look like those Walkers know how to climb."

"See?" said Clementine. A small door opened in the treehouse outside and Clementine peeked outside. From Noire's view, she could see the small black girl with dark hair wearing a baseball cap with a large printed 'D'. "Can you see me? I can see you through the window."

"Yeah, I see you," said Noire, waving in a friendly way. Hopefully, she didn't scare Clementine off.

That plan immediately went south as Clementine screamed into her talkie and ducked back inside the treehouse. Honestly, Noire didn't think she was that scary. But then Noire heard a soft his in her ear and swerved around, throwing her fist on reflex. Her knuckles connected with the jaw of a Walker she hadn't noticed before, causing the rotted beast to stumble. The Walker looked like a teenage girl – at least she knew what happened to Sandra now.

The Walker collected itself and flipped back round to Noire, flailing its arms around with the intent of scratching Noire's face off. Noire knocked the decayed claws away and held Sandra back by the shoulders, which was rather difficult since she could only use one arm. Sandra was becoming more aggravated at the denial of her meal and started swinging her limbs around again, slapping Noire in the face more than a couple times. Noire finally managed to lift her leg and kicked Sandra in the chest, throwing her against the stove before it hit the ground.

Noire didn't think that was enough to kill it, so she decided she wasn't going to wait around for it to get back up. She tried to make a run for it and, once again, forgot about the blood puddle and managed to slip again. Though she didn't land on her arm this time, smacking her head against the countertop wasn't any better.

Noire's sight was blurry – she thought she might have a concussion. But even still, she could make out the hazy figure crawling at her and kicked as hard as she could, nailing Sandra square in the face. Noire used the counter for support to pick herself up and tried making another run for the sliding door. But Sandra was not letting her get away that easy. The Walker grabbed Noire by the ankle and pulled her back down to the ground, wasting no time to climb on top of her legs.

Noire punched Sandra in the face as hard as she could and tried to crawl away, but all she did was make the Walker angry. Shit, she should have known the damn thing couldn't feel any pain; its nerves must be dead just like everything else. Sandra grabbed Noire by the leg and pulled her back, climbing on top of her with only Noire's free hand separating her from her next meal. Noire used to have dreams like this, but usually both girls weren't wearing any clothes and one of them wasn't a flesh eating monster.

It took a lot of struggling to keep the Walker away from her, but Noire once again managed to get a leg up and kicked Sandra away from her. It was at that time Noire realize that Clementine had climbed down from the security of her treehouse and opened the sliding glass door, holding out a claw hammer to Noire.

"Here!" Clementine screamed.

Sandra was already starting to claw back; Noire had enough of this shit. She snatched the hammer from Clementine's small hands and smacked the Walker across the face, throwing it sideways to the floor. Her adrenaline pumping, Noire was already back on her feet and pinned the Walker under her boot, hammer held above her head. When Sandra started flailing again, Noire brought the clawed end down through Sandra's skull. The strike cracked open the Walker's skull, but it didn't kill it, so Noire brought the hammer down for a second and third time before the Walker stopped moving completely.

Knowing that the Walker wasn't going to be getting back up, Noire gave herself the chance to catch her breath. Sandra looked like shit, even before Noire started smashing her brains in. It looked like all of her skin had been ripped off, leaving only muscle and tendons. Her eyes were milky white like the other Walkers – she must have been alerted by Noire and Clementine's talk.

"Damn…" said Noire, panting. She turned her gaze over to Clementine, who seemed a touch disturbed of Noire's methods for killing the dead beast. "Hey there, kid."

"Did you…did you kill it?" asked Clementine fearfully.

"Let me check," said Noire. She brought the hammer down on Sandra again, burying the head through her skull. Clementine gasped. It might have seemed a little excessive, especially in front of a little girl, but she was having a crappy day and needed a good stress reliever. "Yeah, she definitely dead."

"Thank goodness," said Clementine in relief. "I think she was a monster."

"Well, that's one word for it," Noire muttered, looking Clementine over again. "And you're the girl who ditched me back in the woods."

"I thought you might have been one of those monsters," said Clementine, worried that Noire would be angry at her.

"Well, I guess I understand that," Noire grumbled in acceptance. "Hell, if it had been me, I would have dumped you if it meant I could make a break for it." Clementine backed away, probably thinking Noire would throw her to the Walkers next. Noire sighed exasperatedly. "You've been all by yourself through this?"

"Yeah," said Clementine. "I want my parents to come home now."

"I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon, kid," said Noire bluntly, remembering the messages she had listened to only minutes ago.

"Oh," said Clementine sadly.

Noire looked down at the little girl that was probably trying to hide how scared she was for Noire's sake. She was very mature for her age, that was for sure. Truthfully, she reminded Noire of herself when she was little – alone and lost in a world she knew nothing about, just trying to survive. All though the circumstances might be a little different in her case.

Now Noire didn't need any extra baggage to drag her down, but there was no way she was going to leave a little girl alone when there were Walkers roaming around the streets. She wasn't completely heartless. Noire kneeled down to Clementine's leave, resting a gentle hand on her tiny shoulder.

"Look, I don't know what happened," said Noire. "But I'll look after you until your somewhere safe or find your parents; whichever comes first. God knows I could have used a friend when I was your age."

Clementine didn't look all too convinced; understandable considering she had just struck down her babysitter in cold blood. Looking at Sandra's Walker for a second, Clementine looked back at Noire and asked:

"What should we do now?"

"Hmm, we definitely should get out of this neighborhood as fast as we can," Noire hummed in thought. "But at this point, there are probably dozens of those Walkers roaming around the streets. We should probably hold up somewhere until the sun goes down. By that time, all the Walkers should have moved on to somewhere else."

"My parents might come home," said Clementine hopefully.

"Yeah, that's right," said Noire, not at all believing that to be true. "We won't go far. Just need to find some place safe so we can come back later with others."

"That sounds good," said Clementine. "We can hide in my treehouse until then."

"It'll be a tough climb with my arm," said Noire, "but that sounds like a good idea."

Suddenly Clementine grabbed her hand. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with people touching her; it just felt weird to have a little girl look to her for protection. Her. A cold-blooded murder. This day was so fucking weird; Noire might need to invent a new word to describe it.

"Let's go," said Noire. "And stay close."

It was a little difficult climbing up to the treehouse with only one arm, but Noire managed to climb after Clementine and made herself comfortable inside the tiny base. Clementine went back inside the house for a couple minutes and brought back a sheet for Noire, which she used to fashion herself a crude sling for her arm until she found proper medicine for it. As she looked out the tiny window, she found her theory to be correct – there must have been over thirty Walkers wandering the street. Good thing they decided to lay low or they would have been eaten for sure.

Knowing that it would be several more hours until night fell, Noire tried to make herself as comfortable as she could in the cramped space and get some rest. Noire had a feeling she won't be able to rest for a long time.


	4. Nightmares

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

* * *

**Episode Four: Nightmares**

It was very late at night when Noire stirred from her uncomfortable sleep. She could see stars in the small window of the treehouse – this was the first time she had ever seen stars in Atlanta. She sat up with a soft groan, listening to the creaking in her stiff bones. Her arm was starting to feel better, but it still a long way from healed. While Noire fumbled around the treehouse, the noise started to wake Clementine, who was rubbing her eyes free of drowsiness.

Noire leaned over to the window. The Walkers that had been roaming the streets earlier had moved on to another area as Noire had predicted. The neighborhood was dead quiet – not the most cheerful of phrases, but an accurate one. Noire opened the small door so that Clementine could climb down first just in case there was a stray Walker waiting for them at the bottom. Hey, she wasn't going to stick her neck out for the kid. Since she didn't hear any screaming or ripping flesh, Noire assumed it was safe and climbed down.

Noire considered it a miracle that she didn't fall flat on her face considering she was climbing a rope ladder with one hand. She quietly landed on her feet and looked around. The back porch light was still on as were some of the street lamps in the neighborhood. It looked like there was still some electricity running; wonder how long that will last. Noire kneeled down next to Clementine.

"Okay, Clem, here's what we're gonna do," Noire whispered softly. "Let's stay quiet; we'll head out to the front yard and follow the road out of the neighborhood. "

"Ok," murmured Clementine.

"Stay near me and we'll move as fast as we can," said Noire as she stood up. "If you fall behind, I am leaving your ass for the Walkers."

Clementine gasped and clung to Noire's arm. Smart girl; she knew Noire wasn't joking. Both of them started to make their way around the house towards the front gate, passing by the sliding door on the way. Sandra's corpse was still stained to the floor inside the house – at least they had one less Walker to deal with. As they walked around the corner and up the driveway, Noire reached for the gate and hesitated for a moment.

For a moment, she thought she heard…footsteps? Noire listened closely. She didn't hear any dragging limbs or hungry moans. Maybe there were other survivors around. Noire didn't know if she should be relieved or worried. It wasn't until she felt Clementine's hands clench up around her arm that she finally pushed through the gate. If worse came to worse, she could also use the kid as a distraction while she got away.

Noire cringed; the gate made a loud creaking sound as it opened. She and Clementine walked very slowly along the bushes as the headed into the street, which had been jam packed with at least a dozen cars. The both of them barely made it to the first car when a gunshot rang out along the street with a loud _**bang**_! Noire instinctively dived behind the car, unintentionally dragging Clementine along with her.

"I found the bastard!" a man's voice yelled out.

Noire got up to her knees very slowly, carefully peeking over the edge of the car door. She saw two men running down the street; one of them was wearing a Georgia State Patrol uniform. Shit! Did they find out she killed the old man?

"Are we going to die?" asked Clementine, whimpering.

"Hell no," hissed Noire. "After everything I've been through, there's no way I'm going to die here."

Clementine seemed a little scared, but looked a little relieved. She must have though Noire was going to keep her safe. Like that was going to happen, Noire thought. She peeked over the hood of the car and swore silently. The cop car was directly behind them, and so was the law man.

"Stay down!" the officer all but screamed. "Georgia State Patrol!"

"Dude, he won't listen to that," said the second man.

Noire weighed her options and right now going surrendering seemed like the best option. Not only did he have a gun trained on her, but they also had a car which they could use to get out of the neighborhood faster. Very slowly, Noire raised her one good arm and stood up, showing them that she was unarmed. Clementine mimicked her – good kid.

"I'll come quietly!" Noire yelled. "There's a little girl here!"

They didn't respond in kind as they walked closer under the street light, but at least Noire could see what she was dealing with now. The officer was a tall, very muscular black man who looked very pissed right now, and the itchy finger on the trigger wasn't making Noire feel any more secure. The other man, however, didn't look like he came from the city – a farm boy, maybe? The officer still had his gun pointed at Noire's head and only just lowered his aim once he got a good look at them.

"Oh shit!" said the officer. "You're not one of those things!"

"Neither of us are," said Noire while she and Clementine lowered their arms.

"Wait; why'd you say you'd come quietly?" asked the officer suspiciously.

"Well, when I see a cop, the first thing that comes to my mind is being arrest," said Noire sarcastically.

"Aww man, no shit!" said the officer apologetically. "I'm sorry about that."

But Noire wasn't going to be giving him any sympathy, not while he still has the gun. Luckily, the farm boy managed to convince him to holster his weapon as he made his way around the car to greet them.

"My name's Shawn, Shawn Greene," said Shawn. "This is Andre – "

"Officer Mitchell," Andre corrected.

"Did you see any of those things?" asked Shawn. Noire had assumed he was talking about the Walkers. "One of them just got out buddy, Chet."

"Well, I just beat a girl's brains out back in that house," said Noire, gesturing over her shoulder. Clementine looked visibly stricken, almost shocked at how she could talk about Sandra's death so easily. "But no, I can't say I saw your friend."

"Damn," said Shawn. His eyes traveled downward to the makeshift sling holding Noire's arm. "Oh shit! You hurt your arm pretty bad. Look, help us find the thing that got our buddy and we'll take you and your sister down to my dad's farm to safety. He should fix your arm up, too."

"Sister?" Noire repeated, snorting humorously. "Man, I am white trash from Macon. Where the hell would you get the idea that I was related to a suburban black girl?"

"Oh, um… sorry?" said Shawn awkwardly, very uncomfortable with Noire's terminology. "So…if you're not related…who are you?"

"Just some girl who happened to stumble along," answered Noire. "She was alone when I found her." She shot a grin to Clementine, who returned it with a soft smile. "Little brat saved me just as I was being attacked by that girl I told you about."

"Whoever you are, let's get a move on," said Andre.

"We just w – "

Noire was cut off by a familiar beastly growl. She turned around; a fat Walker with its front drenched in blood was stumbling around from behind the fence.

"Oh shit!" screamed Andre, pointing his gun at the Walker. "It's…CHET! LET'S GO! GET TO MY CAR!"

Noire didn't need to be told twice. She immediately turned on her heels and made a dash for them squad car, not believing that she was going for a ride along for the second time today. What surprised her most was when she grabbed Clementine's hand and pulled her along on without realizing it, almost as if instinctive. Noire opened the back door and shoved Clementine inside before jumping in herself; Shawn took the front seat.

Noire stared through the windshield as Chet the Walker limped closer to Andre, who still had his gun aimed at the Walker's head. Noire's first instinct would have been to shoot the beast dead, but Andre instead chose to turn and run. The fucking pussy. Andre jumped into the driver's seat, turned the ignition, and soon they were blazing a trail out of the neighborhood all while he avoided hitting Andre. If it wasn't for the screen separating them, Noire would have smacked the officer over the head. They would have to deal with the Walker sooner or later.

As they slammed into cars and knocked over barricades, Clementine took one last look at Chet and her house before they turned the corner and disappeared from view. Noire never settled in one place for too long, so couldn't understand what it was for someone like Clementine to lose the only place she called home. While Clementine continued to stare out the back window, Noire tried to make herself comfortable – it was going to be a long drive.

* * *

They had been driving for what felt like hours before the city of Atlanta vanished over the horizon and was replaced by endless fields of corn and wheat. Noire had never been to the country before; a few of her homeless friends used to tell her stories about fields of gold and food that would last forever. She didn't believe any of that crap, but that corn sure did look very appetizing in her hungry eyes. Noire looked at Clementine for a short moment; the little girl hadn't said anything since they had left.

Andre finally turned onto a separate patch of road – this one made of dirt instead of concrete – and followed the trail of corn to a small farmstead. It looked like something you would see in a Hallmark card. A quaint little house with windows and floral patterned curtains, a bright-red barn close by, and a small, rustic mailbox with a sign that said "THE GREENES" above it.

Noire, Clementine, and Shawn jumped out of the squad car.

"Say hi to your dad for me," said Andre.

"Yeah," Shawn muttered softly.

"I'm sorry, Shawn," said Andre with remorse evident in his voice. "Chet was a good dude."

"One of the best," said Shawn before walking away.

"Take care, you two," Andre said to Noire and Clementine.

With that being said, the officer drove away, leaving Noire and Clementine stranded in the middle of the country. The good news was that they were far from Atlanta, where they was likely to be over a couple hundred Walkers by now. The bad news was that the farm was over exposed – wouldn't take much to break in. She and Clementine needed to be prepared when shit hit the fan…not that she care about Clementine, that is.

Just as she was thinking of ways to fortify the perimeter, the front door of the house opened with a loud creak and a thin, elderly man in his sixties walked onto the porch. His eyes narrowed at Clementine and Noire with suspicion before he spotted Shawn, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thank god you're ok," said the old man, walking over to Shawn.

"I was worried it'd bad here, too," said Shawn, wasting no time in hugging the man Noire assumed was his father.

"Been quiet as usual the past couple of days," said Mr. Greene, returning the embrace with a few small pats on the back. "Ol' Breckon down the way thinks his mare's gone lame but that ain't nothing new."

"I ran into Andre outside of Atlanta," said Shawn, slowly falling into a depressive state. "And uh…Chet…he got killed."

"No," said Mr. Greene shocked. "You're kidding."

"Those _things _got him," said Shawn grimly. "Dad, I don't know what's going on."

"I'm sorry, son," Mr. Greene said solemnly. And as luck would have it, Mr. Greene spotted Noire and Clementine before Noire had finished planning how to slip away unnoticed. "You've brought a couple guests."

"You son is a lifesaver," said Noire, hoping to appeal to the old man's good nature.

"Glad he could be a help to somebody," said Mr. Greene critically. "So it's just you and your sister then."

"Oh, not her sister, she's…well…," said Shawn, not knowing any better way of explaining it. "She's just some girl who found her alone."

"Honey, do you know this lady?" Mr. Greene asked Clementine, kneeling down to her level.

The way he said it was almost like he was looking for an excuse not to true Noire. Then again, who in their right mind would believe that some random teenager would just help a little girl in the middle of an apocalypse? You could imagine Noire's surprise when Clementine responded with a clear and confident "Yes".

"Ok then," said Mr. Greene, not sounding all too convinced, but chose to let it slide. "Well, looks like you hurt your arm pretty bad there."

"Yeah, it's not doing too good," said Noire, readjusting her sling. "I think it might be dislocated."

"I can help you out," said Mr. Greene, looking to his son. "Shawn, run on in and check on your sister." Shawn ran back to the house while Mr. Greene turned back to Noire. "You take a seat on the porch and I'll go see what I have."

When Mr. Greene disappeared back into the house, Noire thought this would be the perfect time to make her escape. There was a truck not too far away from where she was standing; she was willing to bet the keys were still inside. She could leave before anyone had a chance to stop her. She could leave Clementine with the Greenes…then again; she could stick around for a bit of rest and some medicine before she set off again. She definitely wasn't sticking around for Clementine's sake. No, definitely not.

Noire groaned softly as she took a seat on the stiff wooden bench on the front porch of the Greene's house. Clementine stood by the porch stairs, looking worried for Noire. It was only a moment before Mr. Greene came back out, carrying a bottle of painkillers and some fresh bandages. Mr. Greene handed her two pills, which she downed right away, and refocused his attention to dissembling Noire's blanket sling.

"Let's have a look," said Mr. Greene. He gingerly held Noire's arm as he removed the last of the blanket around her neck. "Yeah, this is swollen to hell."

"It HURTS like hell," said Noire.

"I'll bet it does," said Mr. Greene. He lifted her arm a little higher, taking care not to agitate the bone, and started making a new, proper sling from the bandages. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," said Noire defensively.

"Well, now's the time," said Mr. Greene.

"It doesn't matter," said Noire. "We'll be out of here as soon as we can. No point in knowing names of people you ain't going to see again."

"Well, if you're going to be here overnight, I'm going to need it," said Mr. Greene, purposely tightening Noire's sling so that it would sting a little. "Unless you'd rather hit the road now."

"Fine," said Noire with a grimace. "Everyone calls me Noire – I don't tell people my real name. Never trusted anyone enough to tell."

"Well, _**Noire**_, I'm Hershal Greene," said Hershel, going back to the sling. "How'd this happen?"

"Car accident," said Noire shortly.

"That so?" said Hershel questionably. "Where were you headed? Before the car accident?"

"I was getting the hell out of Atlanta," said Noire.

"The news says stay," said Hershel.

"Yeah, well the people at the news station are probably dead by now," Noire retorted. "On the way out of Atlanta, we hit a guy. One of those Walkers you've been hearing about, on the road."

"Who were you with, the girl?" asked Hershel.

"I was with a police officer," Noire answered. "He was…giving me a ride."

"Awful nice of him," said Hershel approvingly.

"Yeah, nice," Noire scoffed.

"Well, the house full up with mine," said Hershel, putting the finishing touches on Noire's sling. "We've got another displaced family of three sleeping in the barn. You and your sister are welcome to rest there, when we're done here." He turned back to Clementine, who was still hanging by the railing. "I didn't catch your name, darlin'."

"Clem-Clementine," said Clementine meekly.

"Can't imagine what you've been through, Clementine," said Hershel in a kindly tone.

"I'm looking after her until we uh…find her parents," said Noire.

Though she knew that was never going to happen, the look in Clementine's innocent eyes made Noire feel uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. She never felt that way before; it was like she was about to throw up. Thankfully, Shawn came back out to the porch to distract her and Hershel.

"Hey, dad," said Shawn, "so I'm thinking, first thing tomorrow, we gotta reinforce the fence around the farm.

"With what happened to your friend, maybe that not a bad idea," Hershel agreed.

The look on Shawn's face seemed to suggest that this was the first time the two of them had agreed on anything. Noire held back a laugh; figures the country folk would be stricter about things than the Atlanta police. Once her new sling was properly adjusted and Noire could no longer feel the pain in her elbow, Hershel led her and Clementine to the barn. The entire way over, Clementine held Noire's hand and, for some reason she couldn't understand, Noire let her.

The barn was rather small and smelled like shit, but it was better than most of the places Noire had stayed when she was slumming it. There was plenty of hay for them to sleep on and Hershel was kind enough to provide some thin blankets, but he seemed even less happy to give Noire one. As she and Clementine lay down, Noire could hear the soft snores of something at the level above them. It must have been the 'displaced family' Hershel as talking about.

"Noire," said Clementine suddenly, breaking to silence of the night. "It smells like…"

"Shit," Noire said without thinking. Noire gasped, acting like she had done something horrible. Well actually, she had done a lot of horrible things, but she didn't need to know that. "Oh, knock it off. If the world really has gone to hell, you're going to be hearing a lot worse than 'shit'. You should get used to it – in fact, you should learn a few words. Try to make yourself tougher."

"Ok," said Clementine softly, seemingly pondering Noire's words. Noire could definitely tell she wanted to be tougher, but was uncertain if she could. "I miss my mom and dad."

"I bet," said Noire monotonously.

"How far is Savannah?" asked Clementine.

"Pretty far," grunted Noire, trying to get comfortable.

"Oh…ok," said Clementine.

The little kid fell asleep almost instantly after that; she had a long day and was clearly very tired. Noire closed her eyes and tried to follow her example. Everything was quiet in the country. It was the first time in years that Noire was able to fall asleep so easily.

Her dreams were…troubling. They weren't dreams, more like the repeating images of a broken record. She could see the events playing over and over again in her head. The hotel – the doorman shot through the head – the elevator ride – kicking down the door – the shocked looks on the faces of that bastard and his family. She remembered how she grabbed the steak knife and spilled his wife's guts all over the floor. The bastard had tried to run, but she grabbed him by the head and repeatedly smashed his face on the counter until his skull was cracked open. The little boy tried to hide, but he could never hide from her. She found him and dragged him to the balcony, watching him…falling…falling…falling…

Noire shot up like she had been shocked awake, gasping hard for breathe. She looked back to Clementine, her eyes going wide once noticing how her fingers had slowly been dancing around Clementine's throat. Noire pulled back her hand. Did she just try to choke Clementine in her sleep? No way…no fucking way!

Noire picked up the blanket and moved to the other side of the barn, finding a soft pile of hay she could rest on. Taking a deep breath, Noire willed herself to fall back to sleep, hoping that she didn't wake up in the morning to find out that she had killed someone in her sleep. Because she needed to get in good with the Greenes if she was going to be here. She definitely wasn't concerned about Clementine.

Definitely not.


	5. Honesty

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

* * *

**Episode Five: Honesty**

"Hey, get up."

Noire whined like a little girl, wanting to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but she was too tired to swear. Last night had been one of the most uncomfortable sleeps she had ever experienced, and she had slept in a trash can in the back alley of Macon. The memories of the governor and his family's death played over her mind like a broken record. She didn't feel bad about it, but she woke up every half hour to make sure she didn't try to kill Clementine in her sleep.

As Noire opened her eyes, she stared up into the face of the man with the biggest mustache she had ever seen – it was a fuzzy caterpillar had died on his lip. The man looked close to his mid-forties with a wild mane of hair, loose clothing, and a hat that made him look like a truck. In short, he was the embodiment of the stereotypical redneck – Noire assumed he was from Florida.

Though she didn't want to, Noire slowly propped herself up by her one good arm and sat up, shaking the loose pieces of straw out of her hair. She looked over to the other side of the barn where Clementine was just getting up, scratching her arms uncomfortably.

"I'm itchy," Clementine complained.

Well, you slept in a barn, little lady," said the redneck with a tone of humor in his voice. "Lucky you don't have spiders in your hair." Clementine gasped fretfully, digging her fingers through her hair in search of the aforementioned arachnids. "But I bet your big sister scared 'em all away, huh?"

"Again with the sister crap," said Noire, rolling her eyes. "I'm not her sister. Our relationship is as plain as black and white – she's black, I'm white."

"Uh…right," said the redneck. Noire had a talent for making people uncomfortable. "I'm Kenny."

At that precise moment, a scrawny freckled boy popped around the corner of the barn door, nearly knocking over one of the hay bales. And the boy wasn't just clumsy, but loud – his squeaky voice was like listening to a thousand cats mewling…or that Justin Bieber crap that she was forced to listen to back in Macon.

"Dad! We're going to build a fence! There's a tractor and everything!" The boy said in one breath before taking off, this time successfully knocking over the hay bale.

"We better get going or we won't hear the end of it," said Kenny humorously. As Noire followed him out the barn, she was a little surprised when Clementine held her hand, but the biggest surprise was when Noire didn't let go. "That's my boy, Kenny Junior. We call him Duck, thought."

"Duck?" Noire repeated. "Ok, you're gonna have to explain that one to me."

"Nothing bothers him," said Kenny. "Like water off a duck's back, y'know?"

"So basically, he's as dumb as a bag of hammers," said Noire harshly.

"Your words, not mine," said Kenny, strangely not feeling even a little insulted. They could hear the boy's whining even louder as they approached Hershel's house. "But he makes up for it with enthusiasm."

Noire, Clementine, and Kenny stopped at the porch where 'Duck' was being corralled by a woman whom Noire assumed was Kenny's wife. She was a slightly round woman with a soft face and even softer voice; Noire could tell right away she was a good mother.

"Word is you were on your way to Macon," Kenny said to Noire.

"Never really said anything about my plans," said Noire, "but I guess Macon is as good a place as any. I grew up in Macon, so I know what it's like. Small town, fewer people, and probably even fewer Walkers."

"Well Macon's on the way," said Kenny, "and, personally, I'd appreciate the company of someone who can knock a couple heads together if she has to."

Noire paused for a moment of thought, weighing her options. She didn't really have any reason to go back to Macon, especially since she was a wanted criminal, but with the dead walking around, maybe Macon was a chance for her. She knew the place well enough – she could grab what she needed before moving on down the road. Hershel made it clear he wanted Noire gone by today, and she could get this redneck to give her and Clementine a ride, the better…not that she cared what happened to Clementine.

"Sure, we'll…tag along," said Noire.

"It's a plan then," said Kenny with a satisfied smile. He directed his attention to his family. "Katjaa, Duck, this is…uh…actually, I didn't get your name."

"I'm Noire and this is Clementine," said Noire.

"What kinda parent names their kid Noire?" asked Kenny strangely.

"The same kind that names their kid Duck," Noire retorted.

"Touché," Kenny laughed.

"You have a very pretty name, Clementine," said Katjaa sweetly.

"Thanks," Clementine said shyly behind Noire.

"Well, we should get to work," Shawn said as he walked around the corner, carrying a hammer and some timber under his arms. "We've all seen what those things can do out there so the faster we get this fence up, the better."

"I wanna build a fence," said Duck excitedly.

"Yeah?" Shawn chuckled. "Well I need a good foreman. You can sit on the tractor and yell at me whenever I take a water break."

"On the tractor? Cool!" Duck screamed with enthusiasm, much to Noire's irritation.

"Duck and I will hop to it," Shawn stated, walking back around the house with Duck tailing after him like a little puppy.

"I can keep an eye on your little girl here on the porch," Katjaa offered nicely. "We can visit."

Noire looked down at Clementine, who stared back up at her, as if asking permission. While Noire nodded for Clementine to stay with Katjaa, and thereby keeping the girl out of her way, it took her a few seconds to realize that she was still holding Clementine's hand before she let go. Leaving Clementine with Katjaa, Noire followed Kenny over to the dilapidated truck Noire had thought about stealing last night, coming to realize that it must belong to him. Could he be more of a redneck?

Kenny popped the hood of his truck, immediately busying himself with the motor of something of the like. Strangely enough, cars were the one thing Noire never took the time to steal. Figuring she had nothing to contribute here, she just leaned against the door, watching Clementine and Katjaa engage in a delightful conversation.

"You need any help," Kenny said suddenly, causing Noire to jump slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Noire questioned.

"I mean, in taking care of that little girl," said Kenny seriously. "You know what you're doing?"

"I'm a seventeen year-old bum from a no-name town," Noire said rudely. "I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. It's only been a day and I'm just winging it."

"At least you're honest," Kenny said with a short laugh. "Shit, better than I was when Duck showed up. You'll figure it out."

"I would prefer if I didn't," said Noire. Kenny stopped working for a moment and looked at her, gauging her words, before shrugging it off and returning to the truck engine. "Speaking of kids, how's that little duckling of yours doing?"

"Good, I think," said Kenny. "Katjaa's got a sister up in Memphis; we were coming back from visiting her. We were in a gas station and some guy grabbed my boy. I thought he was kidnapping him. I was on the fucker in two seconds and…Christ. Just lucky I was there. We saw a lot of bodies before we stumbled upon Hershel's. But we're a tough family, Noire. Ain't nothing gonna faze us."

"I have no doubt you're a tough guy," Noire acknowledged. "But your wife and kid ain't much of fighters. You three gotta plan for when things get even worse?"

"Get back down to Lauderdale and let this mess get sorted out," said Kenny like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Government will start handing out shots and the National Guard will do its thing. On the odd chance things got too bad, we could hop on my boat, I guess."

"You've got a boat?" said Noire quickly, genuinely interested now.

"I'm a commercial fisherman," said Kenny, "catching mackerel, dolphin, whatever's biting and paying. Katjaa wouldn't be wild about it, but the boat's not that bad."

Now that was a useful chunk of information. Maybe it would do Noire and Clementine well to stick around the redneck and his family a little longer and try to get on their good side, convince them that they were friends. That way it would be much easier to snatch it under their noses before they even realized what happened. Now Noire knew a boat wasn't a permanent solution – she wasn't even sure if the Walkers could swim or not – but if it got them the hell out of Georgia, she was all for it.

Seeing as how she wouldn't be much help in fixing the truck and it didn't look like Kenny had any more useful information, Noire left him to his work. She crossed over to the porch where Clementine and Katjaa were still talking, laughing at times. When Noire saw Clementine's smiling face for the first time, she could feel the corners of her lips twitching.

"Hey, ladies," Noire greeted them. "Wow, you two actually look relaxed."

"I think we're doing just fine," said Katjaa. "Clementine was just telling me about first grade."

"Oh, uh, how is that?" Noire asked awkwardly.

"It's easy," said Clementine, sounding a little smug.

"I wouldn't know," Noire shrugged. "Never went to school myself. Everything I learned came from the streets."

"Oh, I am so sorry," said Katjaa sympathetically.

"It's not your fault; my – " Noire started, but cut herself off. There was no point in telling either of them about _**that**_. "Soo, you're good?"

"As good as it gets," said Katjaa with a sigh. "It's almost like we didn't see people eating each other for the past three days. It's peaceful here, no?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," said Noire, starting to feel a little twitchy. It was the calm before the storm, she knew it. "So…Katjaa…uh…what do you do when corpses aren't walking around?"

"I'm a veterinarian back in Fort Lauderdale," said Katjaa. "Like Hershel, here; except more with dogs and cats and not horses. What did you do before all this, Noire? You must have done some kind of work to last this long on your own."

"I was in the uh…acquisition business," said Noire, purposely avoiding the topic of her being a thief, lest she convince Kenny not to bring them along. "I spent most of my time in the pawn shop in Macon. They even had a picture of me on the wall."

"Good for you," said Katjaa kindly. "We need to HOPE that we can go back to our jobs soon, Noire. Back to normal. It can't stay like this."

"I'm not in any hurry to go back to my old job," said Noire. "Quite honestly, this farm is a big improvement compared to what I've had to deal with. At least here I get a bed, even if it is made of straw." The look on Katjaa's face showed that she didn't appreciate Noire's cynical view, so Noire tactically redirected the conversation. "Just out of curiosity, how did you handle getting through the city? Me and a…friend of mine got knocked off the road when we tried to get away."

"Kenny just…drove," said Katjaa, her voice sounding hollow. "We passed so many people that needed help. And…we just…passed people, over some. Just…just…" She gave a small shudder, trying to clear her mind of the disturbing images. "I want to go home tomorrow, but even then I can't take away the things we – the things Duck – went through." She looked up to Noire with an empty stare. "Don't you want to go back to the moment before you knew about all this?"

"Not in the slightest," said Noire without a hint of hesitation. "Things were bad before, bad now, but they're different, you see?"

"People are eating each other," stated Katjaa severely.

"But they weren't before?" Noire retorted sarcastically. "The banks? The politics? The – the crap – those things are gone. Hell comes in a lot of different colors and I've seen the rainbow."

Katjaa stared down Noire with look of abhorrence, which in retrospect might not have been the best way to win over the wife of the man with the boat. Maybe what she said was a bit out of line, but Noire had put up with this kind of shit her whole life. Noire wasn't an anarchist, but she was glad the Walkers started eating people if it meant that the fuckers in the political circle would be the first on the chopping block. Noire looked over at Clementine, who was trying to distract Katjaa while silently signaling Noire to get away while she had the chance. The kid knew how to read the mood – great.

Leaving Clementine to sooth Katjaa, Noire walked around the house towards the backyard where she saw Shawn working on the makeshift fence while Duck played on the tractor. Noire didn't like the idea of leaving a kid to mess with the levers of an eight hundred pound death machine, but she figured Shawn would have made sure the stupid brat didn't started it. I mean, what kind of dumbass would leave the keys in the ignition with a little kid at the wheel?

Noire inspected the temporary wall that Shawn had hastily put together in less than an hour. It looked like he had built it from whatever he could find around the farm – plywood, aluminum – anything that could he pounded into place with two-inch nails.

"Do you uh…think thing will keep them out?" Noire asked with concern.

"Not yet," said Shawn. "I'm planning on coming back for a 'fortification run', if you will. We'll lock this place up good."

"Need a hand?" Noire offered. "I've still got one that isn't broken."

"That'd be great," said Shawn in sweet relief. It couldn't have been easy working on the fence alone and watching a hyperactive kid. He gestured to a few boards of plywood lying a few feet away. "If you could cut those two-bys to length, that'd sure speed things up."

Noire stared at the board, then back to her arm, then back to the boards, then back to her arm again. Oh, this was going to be fun. The easy part was setting the boards up. The hard part was holding them down while she cut through them with the hand saw. The first few tries resulted in the plywood slapping against her knees until she put her foot down, literally. She lifted her foot up to hold the board into place while she cut through the wood as fast as she could.

"My dad doesn't know how bad it is," Shawn said suddenly in a small voice.

"I wouldn't think he would, being stuck out here," said Noire.

"I saw a guy in Atlanta kill a kid," said Shawn. "A boy. Just shot him right in the face."

"You gotta do what you can to survive," Noire responded coldly.

"Like put a gun to the kid's head and pull the trigger?" Shawn spat, angry that Noire would even suggest a thing. "Fuck that. He didn't even hesitate. He just turned around, put the barrel of the gun right between the kid's eyes, and pulled the trigger. You don't see things like that. It's not like in the movies."

"Clearly you haven't spent enough time in the city," said Noire. "Shit like that happens all the time."

"Did you have to do it?" Shawn asked her.

"Do what?" Noire replied, finally cutting through her first board.

"Kill," Shawn said simply. "Have you had to off one yet?"

"Well, let's see," Noire hummed, pretending to be in thought as she cut the second board. "I smashed Clementine's babysitter's brains in, shoved the barrel of a shotgun down an officer's throat, and you remember hearing the news about the governor and his family. I killed them."

"Fuck, girl," said Shawn, his voice a mixture of impressed and disturbed. He shook his head, dutifully returning to work on the makeshift barrier. "I'm just glad we're getting this fence built. Dad just wants to keep the family safe and thinks inviting people in is a bigger threat than whatever's out there." Noire cut through the third board. "How about yours? How's your family?"

"Don't have one," Noire grumbled savagely. "The fuckers ditched me when I was only a baby. Had to raise myself."

"Oh," said Shawn, kicking himself for bringing up such a sensitive topic. Noire had cut through her fourth board and started to pick up another one when Shawn stopped her. "That's probably all I need cut for now. Thanks."

"Ok then," said Noire as she put down the handsaw. "I know it's a little late, but I'm sorry about your friend. I personally wouldn't know what it's like to lose someone your close to. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Noire, I appreciate it," said Shawn solemnly. "Anyway, when you see my dad around, he might want some help in the barn."

Noire look across the yard to the barn just as Hershel walked inside with a pitchfork. That was when she thought to herself, I'm about to go into a close space with a guy who doesn't like me while he has a weapon and my arm if busted. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Noire walked around the Greene's house, purposely passing by Kenny and Clementine. If everything went to shit, she'd at least like to know she would have some backup. Hershel was busying himself by raking through the hay when Noire strode inside, stopping just short of Hershel's reach; she wasn't going to give the old timer a free shot. Hershel looked up, glared at her, and then went back to his work.

"You should know that if you weren't leaving with Kenny today, I wouldn't stand for your lack of honesty last night," said Hershel calmly; the sort of calm before the psycho killer chopped you with his machete.

"I'm not sure I follow," Noire said defiantly.

"A man asks you name and you give it," Hershel said, punctuating each word. "Unless that name is no good. How'd you get out of Atlanta?"

"I was on my way out anyway," Noire told him. "The timing of it all just happened to be right."

"Ha, if there ever is a good time for the supposed 'apocalypse'," said Hershel with a venomous tongue. "You know, had you told me twenty years ago I'd still be doing this, I would've told you that you were full of crap. Never was the plan, having a place like this. It was in the family, and I guess so was I." He stopped raking for a moment, looking at Noire. "Family's important; it's all that matters. You agree with that?"

"I never had a family," said Noire shortly.

"Hmm, I see," said Hershel critically. "But now you've got this little girl to take care of. Clementine, is it? You just stumbled up-on her?"

"What are you getting at?" Noire questioned, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Hmph," Hershel grumbled, stabbing his pitchfork into the ground as hard as he could. It may have been his way of trying to intimidate Noire, but all its done was give her the edge back. "Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Here's some advice: mind your own damn business," Noire hissed.

"I don't know who you are or what you did," Hershel said, clenching his fists and taking a step closer to Noire. "But you better become a better liar, and fast." Noire scoffed; she was a damn good liar already. "Let's say things don't get better back in the cities. Or they get worse before they do. You're going to have to depend on the honesty of strangers if you're going to make it. And if those same people get to questioning yours, you're going to be in trouble. So whoever you are, or what you did, keep it to your damn self. Oh, and being less of an asshole would serve you just fine."

Noire wanted so hard to laugh in Hershel's face; to slap him over the head and shove him into the hay. As if this old country fart knew what it took to survive. He'd been living on a nice and prosperous farm his whole life while she had moved from city to city, surviving off the scrapes from the garbage and the stuff she took from people she mugged. She had been handling herself just fine for seventeen years, and no zombie apocalypse was about to change that.

Noire was just about to tell Hershel to go fuck himself when the sound of an engine ripped through the air, followed by a cry of fear and pain. It sounded just like Shawn. Oh fuck…please don't let it be what she thought it was.

"GO! I'll get my gun!" Hershel scream, panic apparent in his voice. He recognized that scream, too.

Noire wasted no time cutting across the yard, leaping over the bushes and hay bales, not even stopping when Katjaa came running out of the house, asking what had happened. Noire could hear hungry growls as she got closer to the fence – she recognized those growls. Her worst fears were confirmed when she slid to a stop in front of the fence, taking in the scene in front of her.

Shawn was on the ground, his leg crushed under the tractor that Duck had somehow managed to drive over him. Walkers, drawn by the noise of the tractor, were clawing their way through the gaps in the boards trying to reach Shawn. It wasn't going to hold very long; Noire could already hear the boards beginning to creak. Duck, who was leaning over his seat to view the damage he had done, was suddenly pulled back when a Walker had grabbed him by the leg. Duck fell back and tried to hold on to the seat as hard as he could as the Walker tried to drag him over the fence by his shoulders.

More Walkers were starting to approach the fence – the whole thing would topple at any moment – and Noire knew she would only have time to save one. She took a moment to weight her options. Shawn did give her and Clementine and ride to the farm and he seemed like a really nice guy, but his dad was a huge dick. On the other hand, saving Duck would cement her friendship with Kenny, giving her a better opportunity to steal the boat later on. It was a no-brainer.

Noire dashed over to Duck, picking up a piece of plywood off the ground. Noire pulled all of her strength into her good arm and swung around the back of the Walker's neck, earning a satisfying _**crack**_ before the Walker dropped to the ground. Kenny arrived not a moment later, jumping on the tractor and picking his son up, carrying him away from the other Walkers. Kenny whispered soft words of comfort to his son and turned to Noire, relief washed over him.

"Thank you," Kenny murmured.

"GET THIS TRACTOR OFF OF ME!" Shawn screamed desperately, causing Noire and Kenny to turn to him. "NOIRE, HELP ME! PLEASE!"

But Noire did nothing. Even if she wanted to help, there was no way she was going to be able to move that tractor and get away from the Walkers in time. Her life was more important than some farm boy's.

With one final _**crack**_, the fence finally gave wave and the pair of Walkers spilled on top of Shawn. The first Walker to a deep bite at Shawn's leg, causing the farm boy to scream out, before the second Walker bit him in the throat, finishing the job. Noire watched with a sick sort of fascination as the Walker ripped his skin apart with ease using only their teeth, spray blood on everything within three feet. Noire heard a soft whimper and looked back, her eyes wide with momentary panic. Clementine had seen the whole.

Hershel arrived not a moment later with his shotgun in hand, only to be met with the sight of his son being chewed into pieces by the Walkers. And Noire was just standing there, watching. Hershel's face contorted into a look of pure hatred as he shot the first Walker, splattering its brain along the fence. The second Walker lifted its head at the sound of the noise before its head was blown off. A third Walker came stumbling out of the field, but it didn't get far before Hershel ripped it apart as well.

Hershel dropped his head and kneeled over his son's bloodied body, cradling Shawn's head in his hands. Noire and Kenny stood back a ways from Hershel while Katjaa tried to block Clementine and Duck's view of the carnage. The look of terror and betrayal on Shawn's face was all Hershel had left of his son.

"Get out," Hershel said with a low growl before he swerved around and exploded. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

"I'm sorry," Kenny said remorsefully.

"SORRY?" Hershel screamed. "Your son is alive. You don't get to be sorry." He curved around to Noire, looking even more pissed at her than normal, and that was saying something. "And YOU. You didn't even try to help."

"Your son was trapped under the tractor – we weren't going to pull him out in time," Noire explained monotonously. "The boy had the best chance of surviving, so I helped him. It was the most logical choice."

"You bitch…" Hershel hissed venomously.

"You wanted me to be honest, right?" said Noire, shooting Hershel a smirk that only he could see.

"Please, just go," Hershel asked, his voice trembling only briefly before turning angry again. "Get out and never come back."

Noire would have told him that she had never planned to come back in the first place, but it was probably best not to say it in front of Katjaa – she was already weary of her. Noire, Kenny, and the others walked away to the front yard, leaving Hershel to mourn over his son's body. Standing by the truck, staring across from one another, Noire could only begin to imagine what Kenny was thinking. She had just saved his only child; Kenny owed her. And if that wasn't enough to convince him, then the pleading look on Clementine's face was enough to seal the deal.

"You've got that ride to Macon if you want it," said Kenny softly.

Perfect. Everything was working in Noire's favor.

While Clementine, Katjaa, and Duck loaded up in the back seats, Noire and Kenny took the front seats and soon they were driving down the interstate towards Macon, Noire's old stomping grounds. During the long drive, Noire started to form a plan. Kenny owed her and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. In the end, the only one that mattered was herself.

And, if she was being honest with herself, so did Clementine.


	6. Conflict

**The Walking Dead: Black Death**

The Walking Dead Game ©Telltale Games

* * *

**Episode Six: Conflict**

The drive had been long an uncomfortable; none of them had spoken in six hours since they were kicked off of Hershel's farm. Noire wouldn't have minded it so much if the situation had been different. She let Shawn – a man who risked his life to help them – die because she was pissed off at Hershel. Noire would have actually patted herself on the back if Clementine hadn't been around to see everything. Noire could only imagine what Clementine must have thought of her, to know what kind of monster she really was.

As Kenny drove across the city limits into Macon, Noire didn't really know what she was expecting. She knew the town might have been overrun by Walkers in the first hours since the outbreak, but she would have thought the situation would be a little more contained since the area was so small. But the town looked just as bad as Atlanta; maybe even worse. Cars were overturned and smoking, walls were painted crimson at around almost every corner, and even the streets were cracked and broken.

Seeing her home town in such a state, Noire was starting to reconsider her plan. But turning back was no longer an option when Kenny's truck started to sputter and stopped in the middle of the deserted street. She might not know much about auto mechanics, but Noire was pretty sure it was never a good sign when smoking started puffing under the hood.

"Well, this is as far as we're going," said Kenny

"Then it's far enough," said Noire, hopping out of the truck.

As the rest of the group exited the broken down vehicle, Clementine was the first at Noire's side, grabbing her hand for security. Noire gave a reassuring squeeze before she followed behind Kenny down the streets of the suburban ghost town. Call her nostalgic, but Noire fondly remembers some of the times she spent in Macon as a child, most of them involved mugging the clueless pizza delivery boy. Oh, good times.

As the turned the corner onto King Street, the Everett Drug Store came into view. Noire unconsciously rubbed her ass, vividly remembering the number of times Mr. Everett caught her stealing. While Noire was lost in her memories, Duck's irritable voice brought her back to reality. The boy was pointing down the street towards something hidden behind the cars. Noire couldn't see his face, but if he's scavenging around in the middle of the streets, she knew it wasn't someone they could trust. If they moved back _real _quietly…

"Hey there!" Kenny yelled, waving his arms. Noire wanted to smack him upside the head. "You friendly? Our truck broke down." But Kenny's friendly attitude didn't last very long when the person turned around, its mouth and front covered in fresh blood. It was a Walker. "Fuck!"

"Way to go, dumbass!" Noire sneered.

Noire turned around with the intent of escape, possibly leaving Kenny and his family behind, when several dozen Walkers started creeping out of their little hiding holes. A couple Walkers were crawling out from under cars, some from the alley ways, and others who were pretending to be corpses. Before they realized what was going on, the group was surrounded by close to fifteen Walkers.

"We're trapped!" Katjaa screamed, stating the obvious.

Duck suddenly screamed; Noire clamped Clementine close to her side when she looked over. One of the Walkers had managed to sneak up on the dumb brat and tackled him to the ground. Figures. Noire gets him out of one situation and now he gets himself caught in another. Well this time, Noire wasn't going to stick her neck out for the brat. Just as Noire was considering how best to use Kenny and his family as meat shields, a loud _**bang **_ripped through the tense atmosphere.

The Walker wrestling Duck slumped to the ground; half its face blown off and showering Duck in waste. Kenny and Katjaa picked up their son as two people – two survivors – raced out of the Everett Pharmacy; Noire recognized both of them. The woman who was sniping down Walkers was Carley, a WABE News reporter Noire had seen on television whenever she passed the electronics store. The other was the Asian pizza delivery boy that Noire mugged on a regular basis when she was younger – she was amazed he had lasted this long.

"RUN!" the pizza delivery boy yelled.

Noire didn't need to be told twice. She picked up Clementine and carried her as fast as her feet would carry her into the pharmacy, vaguely aware of Kenny, Katjaa, and Duck nipping at her heels. Noire heard two more gunshots by the time she reaches the pharmacy doors and looks back. Carley had just manages run inside before the pizza delivery boy snaps the metal gates shut behind her, securing them with a combination lock. Noire was worried that the thin gates would snap the moment the Walkers started banging their fists against them, but to her relief, they held.

Noire allowed herself to breathe easy again and set Clementine back on her feet, shooting a grateful look to the pizza delivery boy. The Asian man only nodded in response and led the two of them inside.

* * *

If Noire had been expecting a warm reception, she was sadly mistaken.

Sad to say that Carley and the pizza delivery boy weren't the only people taking shelter inside the Everett's pharmacy. The moment Noire and Clementine walked in, they nearly ran over a geeky-looking fat man staring outside through the gaps in the boarded up windows, possibly on look out. Standing not too far away was a tall, older woman who would normally be considered very sexy in Noire's opinion if not for her permanent scowl. Standing next to her was a balding, older man who, despite his advanced age, looked like a tank with legs and a glare even worse than the woman's.

Noire suddenly felt like she would have been safer with the Walkers – at least she could have outsmarted them.

"We can't keep taking risks like this!" The woman screamed angrily.

"And we can't just let people die, either," Carley argued.

"When I SAY 'that door stays shut no matter what' I mean fucking MEAN it," the woman sneered. "We don't know who these people are; they could be dangerous!"

"Worse, they could have led them right to us!" the older man growled, much like a grizzly bear.

"Where the hell is your humanity?" Carley snapped. "They could have died out there!"

"Then we let 'em!" said the old man.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up," said Noire, leering at the grizzly old timer. "We're just people trying to stay alive the same as you."

"Don't come in here and swear at me," said the woman severely.

"I'll say whatever the fuck I want if you start threatening me and my people!" snapped Noire.

"You'll have to excuse her," Carley interjected, trying to defuse the situation.

"The hell she, or ANYONE, will," said the woman. "This is about survival; do you guys not see what is happening?"

Noire wanted to grab the bitch by her weave and toss her out to deal with the Walkers personally, but the brick wall standing next to her look very protective of the woman and would probably knock Noire flat on her ass if she tried something. They must be related or something – no way an old man like that could get a sexy bitch like her. Suddenly, Noire felt Clementine tug at her arm.

"What is it?" Noire asked her impatiently.

"I…I have to pee," Clementine said shyly.

"Then just go," Noire said, probably harsher than she needed, but she wasn't about to hold Clementine's hand while she was dealing with a type-A bitch and her old man. Clementine stared dejectedly at the floor. "Just make it quick, all right."

"They've got kids, Lilly," said the pizza delivery on Noire's behalf.

"Those things outside don't care," said Lilly coldly.

"Maybe you should go join 'em, then," Kenny said intensely. "You'll have something in common!"

"She's an asshole, that's for sure," Noire said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"That's what it takes," Lilly proclaimed, her pretty face marred even worse by her deepening scowl.

"Well you don't have to be a bitch about it," Noire stated in a challenging tone.

"Ho-ly shit," the old man mumbled, his attention drawn away from the group. Noire and Kenny followed his line of sight to the counter, where Katjaa was cleaning up Duck after his close encounter with the Walkers outside. "Son of a bitch, one of them is bitten!"

"He wasn't bitten," Noire said quickly. Truthfully, she didn't know if Duck was bitten or not, but she needed to stay on Kenny's good side if she was going to get to that boat of his. "I saw everything going on out there."

"The hell you did," the old man said, taking hers words with a grain of salt. "We have to end this, now."

"Over my dead body," Kenny said defensively, putting himself between Duck and the old man.

"We'll dig one hole," said the old man threateningly.

"No! I'm cleaning him up!" said Katjaa, sounding close to hysterics as she started wiping Duck harder than necessary. "There's no bite! He's fine!"

"Don't you fucking people get it?" the old man screamed furiously. "We've already SEEN this happen. We let someone with a bite stay and-and WE all end up bitten."

"Shut up!" Kenny snarled.

"We've got to throw them out!" the old man continued. "Or smash his head in!"

"KENNY! STOP HIM!" Katjaa wailed frantically.

"Noire, what do we do about this guy?" Kenny asked, hoping she might have a way to calm everyone down. Clearly, he had no idea who he was talking to.

"I say we kick his ass," Noire suggested. "There's two of us against one of him; the guy may be as big as a building, but I'm a fucking scraper and I bet you've been it you fair share of fights."

"I like the way you think," said Kenny, sounding very pleased by Noire's loyalty.

"Everyone CHILL THE FUCK OUT!" Carley yelled.

"Nobody is doing ANYTHING," said Lilly, trying to remain calm but was obviously very concerned about the direction this conversation was headed.

"Shut up, Lilly," the old man commanded sternly. What shocked Noire was that the tough bitch Lilly backed away, looking down at the ground like a child in trouble. The old man then turned his anger to Carley. "And YOU. Shut the fuck up. They will find us and they will get in here, and none of this will fucking matter. But right now we're about to be TRAPPED in here with one of those things."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Kenny asked, very pissed at the old man right now.

"He's bitten!" the old man spat. "That's how you TURN!"

"He's not bitten!" Katjaa insisted. "Noire, stop this! It's upsetting him!"

"Oh, I'm 'upsetting' him?" the old man said with a sarcastic sneer. "Upsetting is getting eaten alive!"

"And what if this was your daughter," Noire questioned critically as she looked to Lilly. She had surmised the relationship between her and the old man – they both had poles up their asses. "Would you smash her head in at the first chance?"

"NEVER would have happened!" Lilly's father protested, purposely avoiding the question. "She's not some snot-nosed toddler, ok?" She's United States Air Force!"

"So it's a double standard, is that it!" Noire shouted, reaching close to her boiling point. She wasn't one to care about other people's problems, but hypocrites like this fucking old man were the kind of people she hated most. "If you girl gets bitten, it's all sunshine and rainbows. But when it comes to someone else kid, it's shoot first and ask questions never."

"I don't need crap from some gutter trash teenybopper!" Lilly father roared, showering Noire's face in spittle.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that!" Noire yelled.

"Fuck you!" said Kenny as he put himself between Noire and Lilly father. "I'm gonna kill him, Noire! Mind backing me up?"

"Gladly," said Noire.

"Noire?" said Clementine quietly. It was the first time Noire had realized it, but while she had been arguing with Lilly and her double-dealing father, Clementine had snuck away to the bathroom, only she appeared to be locked out and she was hopping around like she needed to go badly. "Noire, there's someone in there."

"It's just locked, Clementine," said Noire. "The owners kept the keys behind the counter. Hurry up and grab them."

Clementine ran across the store to behind the counter, holding herself below the waist like she might spill over any moment. Noire rolled her eyes and returned to the argument with Lilly's father, which seemed to have escalated in the few short seconds she had looked away.

"Hey, I'm not the bad guy here," Lilly's father yelled defensively. "I'm just looking out for my daughter!"

"No, you're just the guy arguing for killing a kid," Kenny countered.

"He's covered in _muck_!" said Lilly's father, stressing his point. "She'll find the bite. WATCH!"

"She won't," Kenny argued.

"And if she DOES?" Lilly's father countered, turning his attention on Noire. The way they glared at one another, it wouldn't surprise her if there were literally sparks flying across the room. "The first thing he'll do is sink his teeth into his mom's face. Then once she's dead, he'll probably pounce on YOUR little girl. She'll turn fast, and then they'll be THREE! And that boy is the ballgame."

"Then we deal with it then," said Noire. "But right now we're just freaking everybody out."

"Then get ready to deal with it because that boy is BITTEN!" said Lilly's father argued adamantly.

"It's not going to happen!" snapped Kenny, getting up in his face.

"It is and we're tossing him out NOW!" Lilly's father screamed.

Noire had just about enough of this old man's shit. She wanted to punch this guy in the face, but given that she only had one arm and Lilly's father was built like a tank, there was no chance she was going to get away with it. So she came up with one better. Noire remembered that the Everetts kept a baseball bat hidden under the counter, so when nobody was looking, she slipped hand behind and grabbed the narrow neck of the bat. She showed no hesitation as she whipped the bat out from behind the counter and slammed the end against Larry's face, earning a satisfying _**crack**_!Larry toppled to the floor, hold his jaw, blooding spilling through his lips.

"Holy shit!" yelled the pizza delivery boy.

"What the fuck?" screamed Carley.

"Jesus!" cried the nerdy fat man.

"Dad!" Lilly cried.

Lilly dropped to her knees and helped the old man into a sitting position, wiping the blood of his lips with a rag she had grabbed off the counter. Lilly snapped her head at Noire and looked ready to scream her head off, but with Noire holding the bat to her head, the words got lost in her throat. As she continued to stare down at Lilly and her father, she was vaguely aware of Carley pointing the gun at her head, her finger itching to pull the trigger. On the other side of her, Kenny looked ready to jump at any moment, either to attack Carley or to push Noire out of the way. All the while, the pizza boy and the nerd were keeping their distance from the fight.

The whole pharmacy was silent, everyone waiting to see who would make the first move. Then Clementine screamed. Instantly everyone dropped what they were during and refocused their attention to the bathroom door. Clementine had taken her advice and used the keys to unlock the door, but quickly stepped back when a Walker fell through the crack and started crawling for the little girl.

"CLEMENTINE!" Noire panicked.

She forgot about Lilly, her father, and Carley's pointing a gun at her head – all that Noire cared about at that moment was Clementine. Noire tried to run across the aisle, but unconsciously stepped on a can and tripped on the floor. She landed on her injured arm, sending shivers of pain running up and down her spine, and unintentionally dropped her weapon. But that didn't matter. She could see Clementine. She could see the Walker moving in on her. She needed to move!

With great difficulty, Noire managed to block out the pain in her arm and pushed up to her feet, dashing down the aisle at the Walker. She reached the Walker just as it started climbing up Clementine's leg and pulled it up by its shirt, turning it around to face her. She was relieved to have saved Clementine in time, but now that she was staring into the face of the Walker, Noire realized she didn't have a plan to save her own ass!

The Walker growled hungrily, flailing its arms at its new prey. Noire tried to hold the rotting corpse back, but it was much stronger than Sandra's Walker and she only had one hand to use as support. Inch by inch, the Walker's face grew steadily closer to her own. The Walker stretched its jaws, ready to take a big bite out of Noire's face, when a gunshot rang across the pharmacy and the Walker dropped dead on the ground.

Noire leaned forward, using her knees for support as she tried to catch her breathe. Taking a moment to recollect herself, Noire followed the sound of the gunshot back to Carley, who's hand was still on the trigger.

"You ok?" Carley asked worried, dropping her gun after several awkward seconds.

"Just great, thanks," Noire said gratefully; Clementine clamped herself to Noire's side.

"Uh…guys?" the pizza boy said quietly.

He didn't need to say anything; everyone could hear it. The sound of the fighting and the gunshot must have regained the attention of the Walkers who had followed them outside and they resumed their attempts to bring down the walls with their fists. The chubby nerd backed away from the boarded windows, probably the one closest to the Walkers.

"Everybody DOWN!" Lilly whispered, stressing her words. "Stay QUIET!"

As if that wasn't obvious, Noire thought. Everyone ducked behind the shelves and tables; Noire picked up Clementine and hopped over the counter, pressing her back against the wall. Clementine clung to Noire like her life depended on it, which in reality in probably did.

"They're gonna get it," Lilly's father hissed; Noire was pleased to hear the whimper in his voice.

"Shut up!" Kenny snapped softly.

Noire could hear the boards creaking even louder; the boards would break any moment. But just as their defenses were about to fall, the familiar ringing of gunshots blared from the streets, chorused by the echoes of loud booms. Those sounded like military rifles and explosives. The beating of helicopter propellers could be heard in the distance.

"Is that the military?" Noire questioned aloud, glancing over the counter.

"I don't know," Lilly answered honestly.

"Thank god for whatever it is," said the pizza boy in sweet relief.

"We almost DIED because of this bitch and her itchy trigger finger!" Lilly's father yelled in full force, as if nothing had happened. "That was stupid! That was – "

Whatever it was, Noire and the others didn't have the chance to hear it as the stubborn old man suddenly grabbed his chest and collapsed to the floor, yelling in pain. Huh, maybe there was a god, thought Noire.

"Dad!" Lilly cried frantically, rushing to her father's aid.

"He should calmed down when he had the chance," said Noire, trying not to laugh at the irony.

"Can it, asshole!" snapped Lilly. "It's his heart!"

"My pills…," Lilly's father moaned.

"Uh-um…nitroglycerin pills?" Katjaa questioned cautiously.

"YES. We're out," said Lilly, sounding very desperate at this point. "We've been trying to get it the pharmacy since we got here!" Though she clearly didn't want to, Lilly started begging to Noire, who seemed to be enjoying herself. "Please, try to get in there! Behind the counter, where the pills are!"

"I guess I could…," Noire said slowly. "There is another entrance, in the office over there."

"How do you know that's an office?" Carley asked suspiciously.

"I tried to rob this place more times than I can count," said Noire with a small chuckle. "Never succeeded, but I tried."

"It doesn't matter," said Lilly, finally starting to lose the scowl. Noire was right; she was much more sexier that way. "We need nitroglycerin pills. Please get in there. I'll keep an eye on my dad."

"Everyone else should get comfy and look for anything useful," said Kenny, deciding he should take charge of the situation. "We could be in here a while."

"I'm starting to think this drugstore isn't a permanent solution," said the pizza boy.

"You're right," Kenny agreed. "This ain't Fort Knox."

"What do you suggest?" Noire asked the pizza boy.

"We need as much gas as possible so we can ALL get out of downtown Macon. Fast," said the pizza boy.

"No argument here," Noire agreed.

"Then I'll head out and get gas," said the pizza boy. "There's a motel not too far from here, out towards the end of Peachtree. I'll work my way towards it and loop back, siphoning what I can. I'm from Macon, so I know my way around."

"I know," said Noire, smirking. "I used to mug you on Kings Street all the time. Took your pizza and your pants."

"I thought you looked familiar," said the pizza boy, sounding surprisingly chipper for someone talking to his mugger. "My boss was so pissed at me. Hey, you do you think I can ever get those pants back? Those were my favorite jeans."

"Not a chance," said Noire. A thought occurred to her and she reached into her pocket, pulling out the walkie-talkie she had found in Clementine's house. "If you're going to do that, here's a walkie-talkie if you get in a tight spot. Hopefully you won't need it."

"Cool," said the pizza boy.

"Clementine's got the other one," said Noire. "Check in with her and get back here as soon as you can."

"The name's Glenn, by the way," said Glenn.

"And you," Kenny questioned Lilly, "what's your name?"

"It's Lilly," answered Lilly, settling her father to rest against the shelf. "My dad's Larry."

"Keep a good eye on him," Kenny instructed. "These guys will work on getting you your medicine."

"Maybe," said Noire; Lilly glared at her.

"And you," Kenny said to the fat nerd at the window, "you keep an eye on that front door. You're our look-out."

"It's Doug, you got it," said Doug.

"And I'm Carley," Carley introduced herself.

"Ok, Carley, you'll shift in with Doug when he needs it," said Kenny, going into full leadership mode. "For now, get some rest – you're a good shot and I'd like to keep it that way."

"You got it, boss," Carley conceded.

"Now get him those pills," Kenny concluded.

Noire was very much impressed by the way Kenny took charge in such a short amount of time, those the disgusted look on Lilly's expression told that she wasn't happy with some stranger taking over her group. But right now, she had no room to complain. As far as she knew, Noire was the only one who knew how to get into the pharmacy and was her only chance of saving Larry. So as Glenn exited through the back lot of the building and the rest of the group began doing their individual activities, Noire got to thinking.

This group was very unstable; too many individuals wanting different things and they were bound to butt heads more often. But rather than feel concerned, Noire was ecstatic. The group trusted Kenny, Kenny trusted Noire, and Larry's life was depended on Noire's help. If she played her card right, Noire would be able to manipulate this group through Kenny and still end up on top. And when they outlived their usefulness, she and Clementine would leave them for the Walkers.

This was going to be perfect.


End file.
